Be My Game Changer: A Sports Romance(53)

“I need a marker.”

Dundee gives me a confused look as I pull my hat off my head, flipping my dad’s old baseball card with For me, not him written on it. Coach steps away and returns in a few seconds, Sharpie in hand. I pop the cap off, make the adjustment, then hand the marker back to my very concerned-looking coach.

“I’m good. And if I’m not, I will be.” I flash the card to him, then tuck it back in my hat and replace it on my head. Taking a seat until it’s time for me to go out there again. Once on the field, I remove my hat, read the words then proceed with my game, not paying any mind to the man doing his best to distract me. Why? Because Avery nailed it. Cash knows I’m better than him, straight-up. The only way to convince himself he’s better, is to fuck up my game. And that is powerful motivation. I didn’t fight against him when I was a kid. But that’s what I’ll do now. I’ll fight against the memories here, make my own in this stadium. My stadium.

Everything goes great, but Dundee pulls me after the fifth inning even though I don’t get any runs scored off me. I don’t complain or ask about my pitch count, though. He has my long game in mind, so I’ll follow his lead because I trust him.

The Coyotes clinch the win, and the postgame interviewer eagerly looks my way. I know he’s questioning if I’m going to bail. I’m not. Walking over to him, I spot Avery giving me a concerned look, though she’s able to maintain a slight smile. I love that she’s worried about me, but there’s no need to be. Her waiting for me when all this is over is all I need to get through it. Because she sees the real me. There’s no need for me to pretend anymore.

But I still brace myself. I know what’s coming. And the reporter doesn’t beat around the bush. “Great game back after that rough ejection two weeks ago. It must feel tremendous to be back, but how are you staying focused with all the attention surrounding the allegations of your father’s abuse?”

Taking a deep breath, I look into the camera. “There has been a lot of attention focused on things that happened to me at the hand of my father off the field. And the allegations are true. But I’m on this field to do what I love. It’s never been about him or his legacy. It’s about waking up and doing what I love every day of my life … and doing it with the person I love by my side.”

I glance over, seeing Avery’s face, she’s heard my words. Not exactly the way I’d planned to tell her I’d fallen in love with her, but I need it out in the open. She had to have known, but if not, she does now.

The reporter moves back to game-related questions and doesn’t veer off topic to the beast I see standing on the edge of the field, speaking to the team manager. My father has the look I know well. He’s pissed but trying to maintain his cool as he speaks to the coach.

Dundee walks over to me, slapping me on the shoulder as he walks by. “Don’t be late for warm-ups tomorrow.”

“You got it, Coach.”

He halts, turning to look at me. “I’m proud of you, kid.”

I smile and nod at him. I may just be a pitcher who’s a pain in his ass, but he’s given me exactly what my dad never did: A love and respect for the sport and myself. I can always depend on real talk and tough love from someone who wants me to succeed. I hadn’t realized until he called me it, but I have come to feel like his kid, and damn, that’s a good feeling.

I approach where a small crowd has gathered. I sign jerseys and some items that are handed to me. Most just say thanks and request a selfie, but I always engage with them. A few ask about baseball. A few tell me I had a great game and this is our year to go all the way. And to my absolute delight, not a single one mentions Cash Barlowe. In my periphery, I see him eventually walk off the field in a huff while I remain steadfast on my turf.

I slowly make my way over to the end of the line of fans, my favorite one waiting with a book in hand, Bodie beside her. I wrap my arms around her as she leans forward, the half-wall getting in the way, so I pick her up, bringing her feet to set on the dirt of the warning track.

“You did so great,” she says against my lips as they cover hers.

“I hope you heard that interview and didn’t fall asleep on me again.”

She grins. “I heard it and feel the same, but I don’t really want to tell the reporter that. I would like to know what you wrote on the baseball card.”

“You saw that, huh?”

“Everyone saw that.” She points to the jumbotron. “You looked determined.”

“I was.” Pulling my hat off, I pass her the card, and her expression changes as soon as she sees the word I marked out and the one I added as I repeat the sentiments aloud. “For us, not him. So, give me a few minutes because we have somewhere to be.”

“Where’s that?”

“E.J. and Patrick. We can’t leave them to suffer behind closed doors in silence any longer. I’ve finally realized not telling the story is harder. We’re gonna get them boys out of there.”

She stands on her tiptoes, placing a quick kiss on my cheek. “I asked Joe for an update during the game, and he said the lawyers are making headway. So chop, chop.”

“Joe? You’re talking to my agent now?”

“I didn’t have much of a choice. He called to lecture me about the importance of ‘image.’ Said I should be wearing a Coyotes jersey to support my man, even if it’s not yours.”